Letters From the Front Line
by TotallyUtterlySherlocked
Summary: Molly and Sherlock start a correspondence of letters while he's gone taking care of Moriarty's men. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH because I am a horrid person. Loads of implied Sherlolly.
1. Prologue: England

**A/N: Hi!**

**I was listening to ****_Travelin' Soldier_**** by the Dixie Chicks and the damn plot bunny started bugging me to write a story based on it. Originally the idea was to write about John getting deployed and writing letters to Sherlock but then I got the ideas in this fic and, well...here we go.**

**DISCLAIMER: Moffat, Gatiss, the Dixie Chicks, and Sir ACD own everything, I do not and am not making any money off of this. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

**_Two days past eighteen_**

**_He was waitin' for the bus in his army green_**

**_Sat down in a booth, in a cafe there_**

**_Gave his order to a girl with a bow in her hair_**

**_He's a little shy so she give him a smile_**

**_And he says 'would you mind sittin' down for a while,_**

**_and talkin' to me? I'm feelin' a little low.'_**

**_She said 'I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go.'_**

* * *

"Molly, I think I'm going to die."

_What on Earth is he talking about? Die? _

Her eyes searched his face for a sign he was joking or just manipulating her. She felt her stomach clench when she found nothing. Molly Hooper forced her voice into steadiness.

"What do you need?"

His eyes narrowed slightly and scanned over her quickly, likely deducing everything she'd done since they'd last spoken. When he spoke, it was in a low, urgent voice.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am...everything that _I_ think I am...would you still want to help me?" She almost laughed then, the question seemed ridiculous. Instead, she repeated her question in a quiet voice.

"What do you need?"

And Sherlock Holmes spoke the word she never thought she'd hear in her life:  
"You."

* * *

So they made a plan, a rather simple one really. It was nearly foolproof but Molly still felt her heart leap with relief when Sherlock slipped into the morgue, shaking all over like a frightened animal.

She bit her lip and opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted when she heard the detective sobbing. Her own eyes pricked with tears as she knelt next to him and put a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock?" He looked at her through watery eyes. "Molly, he thinks I'm dead," he whispered.

Her heart broke twice: once for John Watson, and once for Sherlock Holmes. And in an uncharacteristically bold move, she wrapped her arms around him and rocked him back and forth gently, like a child. "But you'll come back to him, back to all of them. And you'll be a hero, Sherlock Holmes. Because you'll be the one who defeated Jim Moriarty."

As she spoke, the words seemed truer than Molly had expected. She smiled through the tears.

* * *

The day he left was a day not unlike the others. The second she walked into her flat after her shift though, she knew. The text just confirmed it.

_I've just left London. Thank you Molly. For everything. I'll keep in touch. -SH_

And then Molly was sobbing on her knees and she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe it was because he was gone. Maybe it was because he thanked her. Or maybe it was because this man; this stupid, brilliant, beautiful man was going to stay in contact.

It was at that moment that Molly gave thanks to whatever deity was working its magic for allowing her this small miracle.

* * *

**A/N: Expect a first chapter soon-ish guys. **

**Thanks to Ariana DeVere for her transcript of TRF, parts of which are in the beginning of this chapter!**


	2. The First Exchange: Italy

**A/N: I can't stay away from this story! The plot bunny is tormenting me, guys. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my mental anguish.**

**DISCLAIMER: Moffat, Gatiss, Sir ACD, and the Dixie Chicks own everything. I do not, and am not making any profit from this story. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

_**So they went down and they sat on the pier,**_

_**He said 'I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care,**_

_**I got no one to send a letter to.**_

_**Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?'**_

_**I cried,**_

_**Never gonna hold the hand of another guy.**_

_**Too young for him, they told her,**_

_**Waitin' for the love of the travelin' soldier.**_

_**Our love will never end,**_

_**Waitin' for the soldier to come back again.**_

_**Never more to be alone,**_

_**When the letter said, the soldier's comin' home.**_

* * *

She'd been going about her daily life, shifts at the morgue, coming home to take care of Toby...but he never strayed far from her thoughts. It was to her slight surprise when, one day, she came across a letter addressed to her from somewhere in Italy.

He'd told her to be cautious about things in the mail, gifts from others, that sort of thing. But she recognized the spidery cursive instantly. Grinning widely, she tore open the envelope and started to read.

* * *

_Molly,_

_I hope receiving this letter didn't alarm you too greatly. I planned on texting you but it's quite difficult to get a signal here._

_I arrived in Italy this morning and am already tracking a member of Moriarty's web. I hope to be done here in a weeks' time. After, I'm headed to the Caribbean; Cuba, to be precise._

_Please don't worry about me unnecessarily, I am perfectly capable of handling myself. I've made arrangements with your postman; just leave any replies (should you desire to send me any) in your post box with no address. It will get to me in time._

_Sincerely,_

_Sherlock Holmes_

* * *

She folded the letter in half, smoothing it at the crease. Molly walked into her bedroom and tucked the letter under her pillow. "Of course I'm going to reply, you idiot," she whispered, touching the paper once more before leaving the room.

* * *

_Sherlock,_

_I wasn't alarmed at all; a little cautious just like you told me, but I'd recognize your handwriting anywhere._

_I'm very pleased you've made it to Italy! I hope you manage to stay on schedule and can start really wiping his organization out. No doubt you will, of course, but, well...you know what I mean._

_Please don't tell me not to worry because I will anyway. I hope for your safety every day because, hell, Sherlock; this is the most dangerous thing anyone could ever do. It's Jim Moriarty, after all, the most dangerous criminal mastermind in the world, they called him, right? So please be safe, for me._

_Hope to hear back soon,_

_Molly_

* * *

Just as he told her, she put the letter in the post the next morning and it was gone when she came home. With a little sigh, she sat down on the sofa and petted Toby absent-mindedly when he hopped onto her lap. She rubbed her forehead with her other hand and thought.

She thought about John, broken-hearted and alone.  
She thought about Greg, perplexed and crestfallen.  
And she thought about Mrs. Hudson, mourning the loss of one of 'her boys'.

That night, Molly Hooper wept for them. All of them.

* * *

**A/N: I dread writing the rest of this fic. It breaks my heart but it exhilarates me at the same time. Please review, they make me so very happy!**

**DFTBA, darlings, :)**


	3. The Second Exchange: Cuba

**A/N: Hello my lovelies!**

**I had a very busy weekend and I am so sorry for how long this chapter took! Please enjoy and PLEASE REVIEW! They're so helpful for me to read and they make me feel good.**

**DISCLAIMER: Moffat, Gatiss, Sir ACD, and the Dixie Chicks own everything; I do not and I am not making any money off of this story. Please don't sue me. **

* * *

_**So the letters came from an army camp,**_

_**in California then Vietnam.**_

_**And he told her of his heart, it might be love.**_

_**And all of the things he was so scared of.**_

_**He said 'When it's getting kinda rough over here,**_

_**I think of that day sittin' down at the pier.**_

_**And I close my eyes, and see your pretty smile.**_

_**Don't worry but I won't be able to write for a while.'**_

* * *

It had been a week since she sent her letter and, just like she told him, she worried. A lot.

So when she came home to a letter addressed to _Molly Hooper_ in distinctive flowing writing, it made her feel about 4 kilos lighter. Grinning like a school girl, she barely sat down before she was ripping the envelope open.

* * *

_Molly,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. I am surviving well enough now that I've made it safely to Camaguey. There are multiple members of his organization here, which makes my task that much easier.  
_

_Your letter seemed to have arrived with no issue, so our system is working well enough for now. If it needs to change, I will let you know as soon as I can. _

_Molly...this is a lot to ask of you and for that I do sincerely apologize._

_John is devastated. Mycroft is watching all of you to ensure you're all safe while Moriarty's men are still out here. Please, Molly, take care of him for me? He's the only friend I've ever had and...I feel horrible that I've done this to him. Mycroft told me once, not long ago, that caring is not an advantage. And I used to believe it, but then I watched John at my grave and I never want to feel what I felt watching him. Mycroft will keep him physically safe, but he needs emotional safety too. You're one of the few people whom I both genuinely like and trust. So please, Molly, will you do this for me? _

_I won't be able to reply for some time, as I fear if I respond too quickly those who I'm trying to dispose of will find out. Stay safe, Molly Hooper._

_Regards,_

_Sherlock Holmes  
_

* * *

She didn't realize she was crying until she noticed the paper was wet and the ink was smudging. With a shaky laugh, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Molly was certainly emotional lately. _Well, why wouldn't I be? The man I've been in love with for ages could be killed at any moment..._ It took some effort, but she suppressed the new flood of tears until after she'd put Sherlock's letter under her pillow with the first.

After she'd collected herself enough so she was sure she wouldn't ruin her letter with damp marks and smudged ink, she sat down at her kitchen table and started to write.

* * *

_Sherlock,_

_I'm embarrassed to say I needed to look up Camaguey because I've never heard of it. It sounds like a perfect place for you. Oh, God, that's not at all what I meant...if you had to be in a Cuban city, Camaguey is the best? I mean, the architecture, the history...it has Sherlock Holmes written all over it._

_Of course I'll check on John. He is my friend, too, you know. And while I don't know Mycroft very well, he doesn't exactly seem like the warm, comforting sort. I'll make plans to get John out of the flat at least once a week, alright?_

_Please, please, please be safe, Sherlock. We all want you to come home._

_With love,_

_Molly  
_

* * *

Her cheeks burned as she put the letter in an envelope and got it in the post. 'With love'? What kind of sign off was that? Molly sighed and shook her head. She'd have to prepare for his scathing comments in his next letter...whenever it came.

As she sat on the sofa in the living room, she looked out her window and bit her lip. "Please come home safe, Sherlock," she whispered. "England's not the same without you."

* * *

**A/N: Once again, please review and thank you to those who have reviewed and are following/have favorited this story! I really really appreciate it.**

**DFTBA darlings, :)**


	4. Interlude: Molly and John

**A/N: Hello everyone!**

**I'm terribly sorry I haven't updated lately. I got done with school a few weeks ago and things have been a little crazy around here. I hope that this chapter makes up for it!**

**DISCLAIMER: Sir ACD, Moffat, Gatiss, and the Dixie Chicks own everything; I don't and am not making money off of this story. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

If there was one thing Molly prided herself on, it was her ability to fulfill promises, no matter how difficult or how much she didn't want to deal with the ensuing chaos.

It was no surprise that she dreaded her outing with John; she knew something he didn't, and it was something that was breaking his heart. Molly was well prepared to hold her tongue all night, but she knew it would probably be one of the most difficult nights of her life.

They had agreed to meet at Angelo's. Surprisingly enough, it had been John's suggestion. "Are you sure?" Molly asked him incredulously. She heard him take in a deep, shaking breath through the phone. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think I am. I can't avoid these places forever, Molly." "I don't want this to hurt you anymore than it already has, John." She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together tightly, locking the words she wanted to say in her throat. "It'll be fine, Molly, I promise." How on Earth had it come to John comforting her? She forced a smile even though he couldn't see her. "Alright then. I'll meet you at about seven, yeah?" He agreed, they hung up, and Molly sank onto the sofa and _cried_. She was honestly surprised she had tears left; it felt like all she'd done lately was cry.

* * *

Molly got to Angelo's about ten minutes early, and was unsurprised to find John already sitting. He met her gaze and smiled a little, raising a hand in greeting. She returned the smile, hesitantly, then sat down across from him. "It's good to see you," she said. And she meant it. She hadn't interacted with anyone connected to Sherlock ever since the fall. She'd been far too afraid of saying something wrong and blowing the entire damned operation.

"Good to see you too, Molly," John looked...like shit, to put it nicely. His hair had thinned and it was obvious that he'd lost weight. He had dark circles under his eyes, and Molly felt her heart drop when she saw his cane leaning against his chair. She closed her eyes for a moment to center herself.

They made small talk until their food arrived. John had moved in with Sarah and he had once again found locum work to keep himself occupied. "Has Greg, um, asked you for help with anything?" Molly was hesitant about asking this question and she bit her lip while she waited for his answer.

He swallowed and put down his fork. "Yeah, actually. Seems to think I'll be just as good at it," he replied with a humorless laugh. "I'm shite at it, Molly. Possibly worse than Anderson, and my God, that takes effort." John shook his head and sighed. "Every time he calls, I always start to tell him that I'll check with...with him." She nodded and he cleared his throat before continuing. "And then I remember I don't need to ask him because he's not there."

Molly reached over and squeezed his hand lightly. "John, look at me, please." He did, and the pain in his eyes stabbed her in the gut over and over and over. She sighed. "I'm sorry," she started in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry he's gone, I'm sorry he left you, I'm so so sorry." The tears pricked in her eyes and she swiped at them with an embarrassed laugh. "I want you to promise me, right now, John Watson..." She took a deep breath. "That if you ever need someone to talk to, even if it's three in the bloody morning, _please_ call me. I can't fix this, John, and God I want to. But I can be here to listen."

He smiled, and it didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was more genuine than it had been. "Thank you, Molly."

* * *

She found it difficult to sleep that night, thoughts of Sherlock and John and Greg flitting through her mind. When she fell into a fitful doze, she woke soaked in sweat only minutes after, the image of John being rolled into her morgue etched behind her eyelids.

* * *

**A/N: I thought of the idea of doing a few interludes; no letters, just interaction between characters. Please review and DFTBA darlings, :)**


	5. The Third Exchange: Location Unknown

**A/N: Hi dears! Please enjoy this next chapter, :D**

**DISCLAIMER: Moffat, Gatiss, Sir ACD, and the Dixie Chicks own everything; I do not and am not making any money off of this story. Please don't sue me.**

* * *

_**I cried,  
**_

_**Never gonna hold the hand of another guy.**_

_**Too young for him they told her,**_

_**Waitin' for the love of a travelin' soldier,**_

_**Our love will never end,**_

_**Waitin' for the soldier to come back again.**_

_**Never more to be alone,**_

_**When the letter said a soldier's comin' home.**_

* * *

She wasn't sure how long it had been since the last letter. Maybe a year, maybe two. All she knew was that her once mousy brown hair was flecked liberally with grey, and wrinkles riddled her face, mostly around her eyes and mouth. Every day she checked the post. And every day she was disappointed.

So one day, when she checked the post only to find a letter addressed to her, she pinched herself in the arm. Hard.

And when she felt it, her heart flew into her throat and she had to grab the postbox to keep from collapsing as tears flowed down her cheeks.

* * *

_Dear Molly,  
_

_I've nearly finished; there are only a few men remaining, but the most dangerous of them all is among them. Sebastian Moran: world class sniper, and Moriarty's right-hand man. He's definitely aware that I'm out here, but he doesn't have his boss's respect amongst the lower level men. He's also rather an idiot. I'm planning on taking plenty of time to get him out of the picture; just because he's stupid doesn't mean he isn't paranoid..._

_I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to you, Molly. I've never been very good with people, and I've never been in any kind of relationship; with a man or woman. But I must admit that I knew you were interested in me. I must also admit that I was too. I spurned you because I didn't know how to _deal _with a relationship. But, being on the run gives a man a lot of time to think. And when I get back, if you're still interested..._

_Molly Hooper, would you like to have dinner with me?_

_I must cut this off now, I've got to keep planning how to get rid of Moran._

_Be safe,_

_Sherlock_

* * *

She pinched herself again. She still felt it. Molly read the letter at least a dozen times, and all the words were the same. _My God, this has changed him..._ she thought with a grim smile. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

After she folded up his letter and put it with the others, she sat down to write her response.

* * *

_Sherlock,_

_You've no idea how thrilled I was to get your letter. I was worrying myself into the grave about you. Moran seems dangerous, and I know I tell you this every time I write you, but please please please be careful, Sherlock. I want you to come home. We _all _want you to come home._

_I would be incredibly honored to have dinner with you. We'll discuss the details when you come back._

_Love,_

_Molly_

* * *

She sealed the envelope and left it on the table, ready to give to the postman tomorrow. Toby circled her ankles, meowing loudly. Molly reached down and scratched him behind the ears. "Are you hungry, Toby?" Her voice and her heart were ten times later.

He was nearly done.

He _loved _her.

He would be home soon.

He asked her out.

He was going to come back alive. With James Moriarty dead. And with no chance he, nor any of his men, would ever interfere in any one's lives again.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was a bit short, guys. It felt natural to end it where I did. I'm dreading this story now, because next comes the hard part...**

**DFTBA darlings, :)**


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